IDKyet
by Frantically Antisocial
Summary: Marriage is a thing. Past IvyxHawk and JayxHalf
1. MyChapTitleIsTooLongForThis

**AN:** A note before we get started is that I'm publishing this for myself. This is a stress-relief fanfic for me, and is mostly uploaded here because I wanted to see it in a new way.

* * *

**Chapter One: In Which the Great Battle Takes Place**

* * *

The battle has left the clearing, but still soaks the air. The scent of blood fills Ivypool's nose and keeps her paws light on the ground.

"They went straight for the nursery," Leafpool says. She's shaking.

Dovewing looks grim, her shoulders and tail stiff. Ivypool herself is shaking. The Clan had fought off the attackers, but barely. If Ivypool and Hollyleaf hadn't immediately run back to camp . . .

Hollyleaf is leaning far too heavily on her now. Ivypool can't tell where it's coming from, but the smells says the wound is deep. Ivypool had barely thrown off Snowtuft and Thistleclaw in time to chase Darkstripe away. The dark tabby had been far more competent than Ivypool remembered; he'd nearly killed Hollyleaf.

Leafpool turns to Hollyleaf, pausing before she moves closer. She searches her daughter's eyes, amber staring into green. Ivypool isn't sure for what. But Hollyleaf's answer is clear; she lurches from Ivypool's side and, stumbling, makes her way towards Leafpool. Relief fills Leafpool's eyes. She rushes forward, guiding her daughter into the medicine den.

Satisfied that Leafpool will take care of the cat who saved her from Darkstripe, Ivypool turns to helping patch up the camp and nursery. She glances up at the pale cliff over their heads, and wonders if there's a move that would allow a cat to land without impact—surely Hawkfrost would have taught her if he knew? But who knew how much his father trusted him.

She hadn't seen Hawkfrost through the battle, and a shiver goes down her spine. Could Tigerstar had discovered his son's treachery and killed him already?

She prays to StarClan._ 'Please, let him be safe. Let me see him once more.'_

* * *

Jayfeather feel more than hears when the fighting begins again outside. He checks over his herbs once more, then pulls down more and begins to sort out mixtures for different wounds. They'll have to get more after the battle, for follow-up treatments, but it should last for two more battles at least. As long as no one else gets a near-mortal wound, that is.

He can hear Leafpool tending to Hollyleaf, and can feel how content his sister is. In turn, Leafpool seems ecstatic. But she's also worried, just as he is.

Staying in the den is like a nightmare clawing at his pelt. He's just waiting for the name of the first dead Clanmate to echo in from a grieving loved one. His heart feels too tight.

Then he hear Lionblaze shouting, telling the Clan that the Ancients have come. He doesn't process it.

The brambles move. His heart jumps. "Hollyleaf!" Comes a relieved cry.

"Fallen Leaves," she returns, her voice filled with—something. What sort of affection is that?

Fallen Leaves scrambles to her side. "I have to fight," he says, "but first, I had to make sure .. ."

That's when Jayfeather finally realizes. Half Moon! She'll be out there, fighting along with his Clan. He feels his pelt begin to burn, worry and joy and apprehension all at once. He waits until Fallen Leaves says goodbye to Hollyleaf and runs out, then follows him.

He tastes the air, but can't sense her. "Half Moon!" He doesn't care that he's being obvious, he has to see her. "Are you there?"

"Jay's Wing!" She apparently doesn't care, either. A moment later, her scent crashes over him, and her muzzle is pressed to his, soft and warm. For some reason, being blind in her presence makes his heart jolt. It's real—she's real. He wants to cry his joy to the sky, that she exists and she loves him just as he loves her.

Instead, he whispers, "You came."

Her voice is warm. "Of course, my love." Those words feel like a title more than a form of endearment. He feels stronger than he has in moons. She presses her cheek to his, then pulls away. "I must fight."

He's loath to let her go, but it's not his choice, and it's necessary. So he nods. "Send any wounded to me." He pulls away, and it feels like claws in his pelt, but he pushes his way back into the den.

* * *

Cinderheart's shining ghost is fighting side-by-side with Lionblaze, their attack synchronized perfectly. Dustpelt yowls beside the nursery, fighting Dark Forest warriors for each inch towards his wife. A badger roars into the fight, pelt shimmering like starlight, great paws scooping warriors into granite rocks and light wood.

Then she sees a broad tabby slip into camp behind the Ancients, almost unnoticeable to anyone not seeking him. Ivypool's heart leaps into her mouth. Hawkfrost! He's looking around with a sneer, but she can see the worry in his ice-blue eyes. With a glance around, his façade drops as he sees that his father isn't there. He turns and digs his teeth into the nearest Dark Forest warrior, making them yowl in pain. He's fast, and throws each cat out before they can even see his face.

It's not perfect. Brambleclaw sees. His eyes widen. Then he's fighting his way to Hawkfrost, slicing and throwing cats each and every way. Ivypool would follow him, but she's busy fighting Mudtail—a cat who won't let her more than glance away from the fight.

"Stop distracting yourself, or your loner blood will get you killed," he snarls.

Ivypool's blood boils. No one talks about her mother as though she isn't truly the daughter of Cloudtail and Brightheart without paying. She distracts him with a feint, then dives forward and wraps her teeth around his neck.

She's torn away by her scruff, the breath tumbling out of her as she hits the ground and a paw is placed on her throat.

"Traitor," Brokenstar spits. Ivypool pummels his underside with her hind-legs, but he only grimaces as blood flows down her paws and fills the air with the scent. "You could have been a great warrior, Ivypool."

As Ivypool struggles, there's a yowl of pain behind her, and warm crimson spills onto her face. She flinches, blinks the blood from her eyes, and looks up in time to see a white-pelted she-cat fade behind her.

* * *

Jayfeather hears the yowl. More than that, he feels Half Moon's life fade out, gentle in the final caress. He freezes while smearing ointment on the shoulder of his Clanmate.

Then he finishes his work. Poultice, cobweb, more cobweb.

He doesn't exactly feel the pain. He knows it's shock. He should treat himself for that. But he doesn't, because he vaguely thinks that the shock keeps him moving. Keeps him breathing and rolling herbs and chewing herbs and applying herbs and covering wounds in cobwebs to keep it in.

He thinks he's breathing. He's not sure he cares.

* * *

"Get off of my sister!"

Brokenstar topples with the full weight of gray fur and the fury of mouse-fast claws. Dovewing is on him, swift as WindClan, scratching his side and biting his neck. He stands, throws her off. Dovewing tumbles back; he goes to pounce on her, but she's too fast. She's jumped over him, clawing at his flank with her hind legs. Then she jumps forward, back into the fray, and Ivypool is on her paws. The next second, Dovewing flies from another direction and into him again.

"Oh, you're dead," Brokenstar snarls, and crouches, waiting for her next attack. Dovewing pauses, panting as she faces him. Ivypool stands beside her, hissing at him.

A burst of starlight flares behind Brokenstar. He flinches, but doesn't move—does he think it's not for him? Is he determined to kill Dovewing? It doesn't matter, because Yellowfang is on him, howling in anger before she snaps his neck in her jaw.

The cry goes up that Brokenstar is dead. Ivypool yowls in triumph, taunting Thistleclaw, but he doesn't rise to the bait. The warriors leave the hollow, Thistleclaw included.

"Are you alright?" Lionblaze asks from somewhere nearby. Blood makes him reek, but Dovewing doesn't seem to care as she answers that she is, stepping towards him, and Ivypool moves the opposite direction, stepping through the camp towards Hawkfrost. The ground of the Dark Forest is marshy, but the camp ground, even soaked in blood, is firm. She didn't make it up; Hawkfrost stands before her, speaking with Brambleclaw, and he's hers. She feels like floating.

His conversation with Brambleclaw is soft enough to be inaudible. But he stops speaking when he sees Ivypool, and his broad shoulders loosen.

"I should have known you'd come find me," he meows.

Brambleclaw looks surprised. He looks like Hawkfrost in size and shape, but their eyes are nearly the opposite of each other. "This is your to-be?"

Ivypool feels heat rush her pelt, but she can't help herself from raising her head and tail, and nodding.

Hawkfrost steps forward, purring, and presses his muzzle to her forehead. "This is my to-be," his voice holds enough affection to make her dizzy. "If we both survive." Her heart aches that they might not; he lifts his head, and turns back to Brambleclaw. "If Thistleclaw's seen me, I can't surprise Tigerstar."

Brambleclaw nods. "A direct fight is the only way we can do this. Who knows—he might have already know of your treachery, and be looking for an opportunity to surprise you."

"Maybe," Hawkfrost agrees.

Lionblaze and Dovewing are speaking with Firestar, and when their leader nods, and they bound out of camp—likely to scout. Firestar turns towards them, and his ears twitch at the sight of Hawkfrost.

He approaches them. "Hawkfrost," he greets. "I saw you fighting for us."

Her to-be dips his head in respect. Firestar seems surprised, but accepts it. "I believe that I finally understand my brother's beliefs," Hawkfrost's voice is steady. "And he is right. I cannot stand aside when I've done so much harm, and I can make even a fraction of it right."

"Well spoken," Yellowfang appears beside Firestar. She's as old and crooked as the tales say, fur mussed from battle. "Perhaps you've done enough to earn a place in StarClan."

Hawkfrost's ears twitch in surprise, and Ivypool feels hope flood her. "Really?" she asks, not bothering to hide her delight.

Yellowfang's eyes soften on her. "Even if he must stay in the Dark Forest, no cat would keep you from him," she rasps. She looks back to Hawkfrost. "StarClan has never been a place for the perfect, or even the good. A changed cat is as good as one gone mad with bloodlust that did no harm."

Hawkfrost bows his head. "Thank you," he says, "but even if so, I wouldn't be able to accept unless Tigerstar was dead."

A snarl comes from the deep shadows beside the entrance of the camp. The Clan turns as one, and faces the most vicious of the Dark Forest warriors.

He steps from the shadows, barely; Ivypool is shocked yet again to see how similar he looks to his two sons.

"So this is what you planned?" Tigerstar snarls. "To betray me, and give up all your life's work so that you can marry one cat?"

"Treachery and marrying my beloved are in the plan, yes," Hawkfrost growls. He prowls forward, and no one stops him. "But if that were all I wanted, I'd never have switched sides." Ivypool and Brambleclaw follow, with Firestar matching his pace.

Tigerstar's claws flex. "You others stay out of this, or I'm leaving."

Ivypool's heart leaps into her throat. No way is she going to stand by. But Hawkfrost turns to look at her, a serious look that she knows. The look that reminds her to pick her battles.

Well, she's chosen him. If this is his battle, it's hers as well. But she nods, letting him go ahead, and knowing she won't be able to get into the fight once it's started.

It's his choice. She won't take that from him, not even now.

"Your quarrel is with me," Firestar says. "It's always been with me."

Tigerstar shows all his teeth. "Which is why I'll pick off each and every one of you Clanmates, one by filthy one, and make you watch as I drown them in their own blood."

"You're welcome to try," Hawkfrost growls. He's mad, in the way that Ivypool never sees directed at her. His eyes are the color of two frozen waterfalls.

"Oh, are you putting yourself first?" Tigerstar tilts his head to the side. "I suppose I should start with the traitors. You, then your to-be, then your brother."

"Don't let him make you careless," Ivypool whispers, fear gripping her anew. She's fought Hawkfrost enough to know his worst weaknesses.

"I'll try," Hawkfrost replies, and then launches himself into Tigerstar.

It's an incredible fight. Ivypool has never seen so many specialized moves used in so few seconds. She stands there, transfixed, as they move like water and then like lightning, swift as WindClan and powerful as ShadowClan, practiced as ThunderClan and smooth as RiverClan.

She knows how this will end.

No, no, she'll kill Tigerstar if he does, what if she interrupts now? She can't. Why can't she save him? Why can't she be fast enough to interrupt, to change the course—

Hawkfrost breaks away, and Tigerstar yowls victory before he's fully back, and then—

Hawkfrost's teeth dig deep into Tigerstar's neck. Tigerstar yowls, struggles. His struggles go faint. It's too soon for him to weaken! And then there's a gash from Hawkfrost's neck to his tail, and he falls to his side with gurgling blood.

Tigerstar staggers to his paws, but Firestar is on him in a second, snarling and ferocious. And he pins him down. That's all he does. There is no glory in how Tigerstar dies, no screeching or terrifying claws. There is just Tigerstar, and blood flowing from his throat.

Or so Dovewing tells her later. Ivypool doesn't care.

She's next to Hawkfrost the second he's down, and Brambleclaw follows.

She can't breath.

"I love you," she forces out. "I love you, I love you so much."

He looks at her, his eyes loving and gentle, as they had come to be with the slow growth of their relationship.

Brambleclaw presses his muzzle to Hawkfrost's pelt, and Hawkfrost bats him gently on the head.

It takes him little time to fade.

* * *

Nearly everyone lives. Ivypool tries to focus on that as Dovewing presses to her side. Few of the Clan look twice at her, and she realizes that no one was watching Hawkfrost when he touched her and nodded to Brambleclaw's question.

She'd thought this would happen. Worse, when they'd begun to seek each other away from training, she'd seen it as inevitable that one days she'd have to kill him. It had to be that way, if anyone could defeat him.

But he'd been good. He'd changed, and regretted his actions, and wanted to make up for them. If he'd managed to kill Tigerstar and live, he likely would have been welcomed to StarClan. And if StarClan has been kind enough to marry them, they could have kept in contact even though they were separated by death.

She focuses. Almost everyone lives. Ferncloud has a deep scar on her shoulder. Dustpelt only has one ear now. Daisy will likely lose her nose, Cloudtail has a deep gash in his side, Thornclaw lost a bit of his tail, Sorreltail has dozens of wounds, Foxleap is dying, Brackenfur is dead, Mousefur died, Spiderleg and Bumblestripe and Hazeltail all died—

_Focus_. Nearly everyone lives.

She stands vigil that night. There were bodies to bury, but there were no bodies for the twice-dead. She stares up at the sky and tries not to yowl about how unfair and imperfect the world is, about how she could have been married to a cat she hadn't expected to change, and yet he had.

Why had Tigerstar been allowed to live? Why had he been allowed to gather an army? Yet, if he hadn't, would she have ever met Hawkfrost? Would he ever have changed? He was dead, but in the eyes of ThunderClan, he was redeemed forever.

She stands vigil with others. Purdy, now their lone elder. Dovewing, Lionblaze, Brambleclaw, Sorreltail, Firestar and Sandstorm. Cloudtail does as well, tail over his paws as he stares at the sky—grief, and wonder. Seeing the stars come to life before him had been enough to awaken his faith.

There are pawsteps during the night. Tired pawsteps. Jayfeather stops beside her, tucks his tail over his feet, and lifts his face to the sky.

She doesn't know why he's here. She can't think of anyone she knows he would grieve for. But he is softer than he seems, she thinks. Perhaps he's here for the others.

But something tells her it's more than that. Maybe it's the way his shoulders are stiff as rock, or the tilt of his head that leads his clouded eyes to the stars.

What of the twice-dead?

There was Spottedleaf, and Hawkfrost—and that white pelt she saw fade. Jayfeather sits next to her. He looks empty. Stubborn, but worn down.

He looks how she feels.

Maybe she's wrong. Maybe he's here for the others. But something is telling her that he's here for the same reason she is. He lost someone he loved deeply, and her heart is wracked with pain anew.

She touches his tail with hers. She waits for him to pull away, but he doesn't. She looks again to the sky. She wants to fall to the ground, to shake and yowl, but she keeps herself as calm as she can.

Oh, how hard it is when Jayfeather briefly touches his muzzle to her shoulder.

* * *

**AN:** As you have probably already guessed, there are a whole bunch of changes to the universe here.

For one, Whitewing was adopted by Cloudtail and Brightheart, for the whole purpose of Jayfeather and Ivypool being unrelated biologically. Second cousins once removed, as they canonically are, are fine for reproduction, but it bugged me. Yes, they will be the main couple, but it will not be fast going.

Another big change is that, as you've likely picked up by now, marriage is a thing. Because this is my fanfic, and it's for fun! And I want marriage to be a thing, nothing deep about it.

Finally, there will be more changes, but they'll be pretty obvious. For example, I listed a lot of the dead cats because the list strays from the original, and Cinderheart is mentioned as a ghost because yeah she's dead (more on that later), and no Hawkfrost isn't evil because Ivypool needs more pain than she already has.

After this final battle, nothing is the same, because I haven't read the books that come after OotS—I'm sure if I had, I wouldn't want to change so much.


	2. TheSummaryWasPurposfullyOffputting

**Chapter Two: In Which Ivypool is Confronted About Food and Changes Residence**

* * *

"What do you mean, you're leaving?"

Hollyleaf is silent in response. Lionblaze seems mildly upset, but not surprised. Jayfeather, on the other hand, feels more betrayed than he has in a long time.

He realizes that Hollyleaf isn't going to respond. He snarls. "So you're just up and leaving again? After you almost died? Is that what you do when you scare everyone who cares about you, leave?"

"Jay," Lionblaze says, sounding genuinely surprised. Again, Hollyleaf is silent.

Jayfeather snarls again, shaking his head and standing. "I'm going to go looking for more herbs," he snaps, and heads across and out of camp, glowering at everyone he hears in his path.

It's only when he's well into the forest that he hears pawsteps behind him. He turns, snarling, when his sister's scent washes over him.

"Calm down," Hollyleaf meows softly.

Jayfeather tells her where she can put her plans to leave.

"I can't say anything to help," she tells him frankly.

"I don't need help!"

"You lost a potential to-be."

He froze. _'How does she know?'_

"Fallen Leaves visited me last night. He told me they lost Half Moon, and that you might need me." She paws at the ground. "But the last thing you need is a mad cat trying to comfort you."

Jayfeather is too angry to contradict her, even though he really, really needs her to be around. This is painful. He wants to yell at her more, but he knows his voice won't sound like he wants it to.

"I need to go for myself. I'm staying to help rebuild, and then I'll be gone. You don't need me."

_'Yes, yes I do!'_ But he keeps his silence for a moment. Then, "So you're leaving the Clan so you don't have to deal with poor little Jayfeather?" His voice drips with sarcasm at the last part.

"No. So you don't have to deal with me."

Jayfeather wants to yowl at her, but stops himself. He feels as though she's pressed nettle into a gaping wound. And he's mad, so mad—she's leaving for the part where he'll need her, because it's the part where he'll need her. Even if she doesn't see it that way—

He turns and pushes away. This time, she doesn't follow him.

He feels like he's just lost a fight and fallen into a patch of poison ivy. And he's exhausted. He presses deeper into the forest, until he's past the places Brightheart had shown him as an apprentice, and he can smell the border nearby. He crouches at the base of a tree, and that's when he notices that he's shaking.

He can't help but think of Half Moon, glowing beneath the light of the moon in the Cave of Pointed Stones.

_'Why didn't I ever tell her I loved her?'_ he thinks. Longing wells up in his chest. He'd never said it aloud, but he'd loved her, long, long ago, and yet only a few moons past.

Grief settles on and around him like a sudden snowfall, and just as cold. How can he cope with this, without his siblings?

He's already decided against telling Lionblaze; his brother was fragile after Cinderheart's death, enough so to act crazy. He'd just returned to normal. Jayfeather's grief might remind him of losing Cinderheart, turn him back into that wounded cat that fought and fought and fought.

Pawsteps fall somewhere behind him.

Jayfeather jumps, and, turning, snarls. There's a yelp of surprise, and then, "Jayfeather?"

He knows that voice. He forces his face smooth, his hair flat. "Ivypool," he meows, "what are you doing here?"

"I was just taking a walk." She doesn't take any steps forward. He thinks that it's a long way from camp for a walk—but then again, she hasn't been normal since the battle against the Dark Forest. She's silent for a moment. Something tells him not to interrupt her, but she's silent for long enough that he looks into her mind.

_'I should go. He'll think I followed him here if I want to stay. But—I just want to sit next to him. He's out here grieving that ancient, just like I'm grieving Hawkfrost, and I think I want company, even if I want to be alone._

_'Do I even know what I want? What if I'm just bugging him? I don't want to chase away someone who might know what I'm going through.'_

"Sorry," she meows at last, turning, "I'll go."

Jayfeather shrugs. "I don't care either way." That's not entirely the truth, but he's not sure what the truth is—and besides, it seems like she needs the company.

She pauses. "Really?"

"I wouldn't mince my words if I did care, now would I?"

A spark of something—hope, he thinks—flares from her pelt. "All right." She steps closer, then sits next to him. There's space between them, and the air is awkward at first. It's harder than when they kept vigil next to each other after the battle. But he doesn't want to talk, and she wants silence, so he starts washing and she seems to let herself relax.

The silence that hangs between them gradually grows comfortable.

* * *

The world seems still. Ivypool feels numb, mostly. Grief eats at her, taking her weight and sleep and attention. The gathering passes and she barely even notices. Sometimes she's sad, and sometimes she's angry, but mostly she feels a great swath of nothing in the pit of her stomach.

She just wants to stay in her nest all day.

She doesn't, of course. She has duties to attend, and a sister who pulls her out into a training clearing, and a mother who frets over her more than ever.

Her family doesn't know that she was Hawkfrost's to-be. But they know she isn't doing well.

She pushes through despite the stillness of time, washes often and keeps on her feet to hide what's happening in her head. The effects of losing someone do not go away in a moon. She doesn't wish it to be faster, because that would mean she can forget—and most of the time, she doesn't ever want to.

Dovewing is yawning when she wakes Ivypool. Ivypool groans, but drags herself from her nest before beginning to wash. She hadn't gotten to sleep until it was late, and now she's thoroughly paying for that. Fortunately, washing herself gives her time to orient the world before getting up, so she doesn't stumble over her feet like she had a few days ago.

The dawn patrol has already been organized and sent off. Ivypool hasn't been asked to fill that role nearly since the battle—she's not entirely sure why, but she's grateful.

"Do you want to train?" Dovewing asks around a mouthful of the bird they're sharing.

Ivypool nods, before taking another bite. She hopes her sister doesn't notice how small the bite is. She's just not hungry.

In the end, Ivypool eats only a few nips of food. Dovewing looks unhappy, which means she noticed. Of course she noticed. She notices everything, and then she worries about it until her fur falls out. Their steps match as they move towards the entrance to camp, and then Ivypool lets her sister go first. The world is simpler when she follows Dovewing's tail.

They face each other from across the clearing, Dovewing's paws planted firmly. Usually Ivypool would shift her paws, making herself a little faster, but she knows what her sister's strength is.

Sure enough, as soon as Ivypool has decided on a stance, Dovewing is near, swift paws bringing her close. Ivypool moves to meet her, and they topple over, rolling in a ball of hissing and batting paws.

Dovewing is so fast—Ivypool knows more. She flips Dovewing onto her back. But Dovewing knows this move, rolls further, moves her paws, and is back on her feet in the same moment. She rushes forward. Knocks Ivypool's paws from under her. Ivypool rolls onto her side, then onto her paws, and Dovewing is on her—instinct grips her like an iron claw. She shoves her front directly into Dovewing's, hooks her sister's shoulder with claws, and uses off-balance and the pain of the moment to toss Dovewing across the clearing.

It takes her a moment to realize. "Oh StarClan," she says when she does, suddenly feeling sickly. "Oh StarClan, Dovewing, I'm so sorry!"

Dovewing gets up, and it takes Ivypool a moment to realize that she's laughing. "That was _awesome_!" Dovewing purrs. "I've never seen a move like that. How did you even do that?"

Ivypool feels herself relax a little. "I'll tell you in the medicine den." She gives the wound a brief washing. "Let's get that shoulder looked at."

It doesn't seem to really hurt Dovewing, but she doesn't complain as she follows Ivypool back into camp. Ivypool hurries then across the clearing, unwilling to have someone ask about the wound.

"What are you doing in here so early?" Briarlight asks, blinking at them curiously from her nest.

"I forgot to keep my claws in," Ivypool admits. She doesn't think Briarlight will spread rumors. Not when her own sister had been in the forest, and has already been known to make the same mistake.

Briarlight looks surprised, but doesn't comment. "Jayfeather should be back soon," she says.

Ivypool eyes the marks on Dovewing's shoulder. "How soon?"

Dovewing bats at her ears, making Ivypool duck. "I'm not a kit, you know!"

"I never said you were!"

"You're acting like I am!" Dovewing's tone is playful, but Ivypool thinks she might be a little serious. She'd been caught up in the fight, and hurt her sister. She can't help it if she feels guilty about that. Worse, it's a move she learned from the Dark Forest.

"So," Dovewing says, "how did you do that?"

Watching the entrance, Ivypool explains about how she'd used pain as a distraction.

"If it's a fight to the death, such little pain won't be important, so the move is a little different," she finishes, "but I never trained other cats in that form, so it doesn't come as naturally as the normal one."

"Weren't most of the moves made for killing?" Dovewing asks. She doesn't seem bothered, just curious.

"Not that most cats learned," Ivypool meows, and then pauses. "Of course, most of them didn't have—well, there was an end to the training, for most warriors. I was an exception."

She didn't mean to sound upset. She'd loved the extra training. But her grief for Hawkfrost is still new, and hard to hide. Dovewing looks worried.

"Who did you train?" Briarlight asks quickly, thankfully distracting Dovewing.

"I usually oversaw large training sessions," she explains. She lists off the cats in her group, and can't help but notice Briarlight stiffening at the names of cats outside ThunderClan. She quickly adds, "Of course, I'd have shown preference to ThunderClan cats if it was possible, but I'd let too many things slip already."

Dovewing's worry returns. "What do you mean, you'd let things slip?"

Ivypool does not want to tell her sister and clanmate about how she'd slowly let Hawkfrost in on how she was a spy, completely by accident, and what his initial reaction had been. "I m-mean, I meant—well." She looks at the ground, and bats at it with a paw. "Never mind."

"No," Dovewing seems persistent with worry, "What do you mean?"

Ivypool feels a wave of cool air hit the back of her head as she tries to figure out what to say. How can she tell Dovewing that she just got too familiar with a dead cat? Even if that cat had redeemed himself in the end, her connection with him had risked the Clans.

Another voice drifts into the den. "Maybe she just means it was over time." Jayfeather makes his way in. He smells like mixed herbs—he must have visited the patch he grows. "Hints here and there that take shape if you look at them sideways."

Ivypool nods, relief flooding her. "It was pretty much that," she agrees. She'll have to bring back his favorite fresh-kill later. She thinks it's mouse.

"Pretty much?" Dovewing presses, but Jayfeather is already sniffing her shoulder.

"It's not bad," he meows. "I don't think you need to restrict your movements for more than a day, and only a few herbs should get you healing faster. Briarlight, get me the oak leaves."

Briarlight drags herself across the floor to the store while Jayfeather cleans Dovewing's wound. Ivypool watches, thinking that this won't be the last time her claws come out in training. Next time, she'll help clean up after her mistakes.

Once the bits of leaf are applied and stuck to the wound, Jayfeather nods. "That will be good," he tells Dovewing. "Don't move it for a few hours or you'll be checking the elders for ticks."

Dovewing makes a face. "Yes Jayfeather." She gets up. "I'll go see what I can do without straining myself. Maybe Lionblaze will let me help him." She gives Ivypool a significant look, and leaves.

Ivypool knows why Dovewing had given her that look, and she sighs. "Jayfeather, do you have any herbs to spare that increase appetite?"

She wants to wince at her own words and how she has to ask, and a cold breeze touches the back of her head.

He looks over his shoulder at her, unseeing eyes completely focused. "I never have any to spare," he says, ice dripping from his voice. "But if you need them, I have plenty."

Ivypool lifts her tail. "I don't really need them. Dovewing insists I do, but I'm fine."

Jayfeather narrows his eyes. Then he moves forward, and pokes her side with his tail.

"Hey!"

"You're far too thin," he meows, glaring as he lifts a paw to her fur. "Have you been eating at all?"

"Yes," she replies indignantly. "I eat every morning and every night—"

"How much?"

"What's it mean to you?"

"I'm your medicine cat. How much do you eat?"

She fluffs out her chest. "Enough!"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure it helps you keep up with the rest of the patrol."

She wants to snap back, but his words remind her that she has been having trouble with her stamina. Not enough for other cats to notice, but enough to make her head right back to her nest, just to stay there, awake, until sleep forces her mind into darkness. She rarely shares tongues with cats outside her family anymore, because who shares tongues in the warrior's den?

"Out with it," Jayfeather says, still poking her side with his paws, "or you're on tick duty." Ivypool can see Briarlight failing to focus on sorting herbs behind him.

After another moment, she sighs. Why does he always win fights? "A few bites of Dovewing's meal in the morning, and usually something small at night," she confesses.

Now he's nosing at her side. "That explains it," he mutters. Finally, he draws back. "Alright, you're getting a dose of herbs each night, and you're sleeping in the medicine den."

"What? I don't need that!"

"The fact that you didn't tell me about this before Dovewing pestered you into it says that you do."

She makes a face at him. To her surprise, he seems to sense that, and makes one right back. It surprises her into a short laugh.

Before she can think too much about how she doesn't want to laugh but did anyway, he meows, "Can you go tell Brambleclaw and Firestar that? They'll need to know so they can wake you up for morning patrol."

"They haven't taken me on morning patrol nearly since the battle."

"When you start eating more, that will probably change," He retorts. "Do you want me to do it?"

"No," she snaps. "I'll go."

"Good."

As she leaves the den, she swears that she can hear Briarlight giggling.

* * *

"Why?"

Ivypool shrugs, flicking grass off of her shoulder with her tail. In rebellion, she hadn't spoken to Brambleclaw about the change in sleeping places until after the noon patrol was nearly set to be back. "Dovewing was concerned about a few things, and he decided she was right."

"Very right, apparently," Brambleclaw narrows his eyes at her. "All right, I'll tell Firestar."

Ivypool dips her head, and turns to go.

"Wait," Brambleclaw meows. "Could you also speak with the other cats who were in the Dark Forest?"

Ivypool feels ice sink in her stomach. Is he doubting their loyalty? "Why?"

"Just tell them they can stop volunteering for the morning patrol." There's amusement in his eyes. "Everyone else is curious about why. At this point, I won't have to ask anyone to be on the dawn patrol until leaf-bare."

Ivypool feels warmth replace ice. He wasn't doubting them, just wanted them to be informed about a potential change in their pattern. "Of course."

Blossomfall is sharing tongues with Millie when Ivypool pads over to them.

"Hey," Blossomfall meows, "what brings you over here?"

"Brambleclaw wanted me to tell you that I'll be staying in the medicine den for a while," she says. "Also that your volunteering for the morning patrol isn't needed anymore."

Millie purrs. "Good. Maybe now your parents can stop worrying."

Ivypool nods, surprised that Millie noticed. Then again, after the loss of Bumblestripe, she'd been a bit more aware of her surroundings, as well as a bit of a better mother.

Blossomfall agrees with Millie. "I can tell the others, if you don't want to."

"It's fine. I need to thank everyone anyway, you included."

Blossomfall looks surprised, then bashful. "Well, you made sure we knew what was actually happening that night," she mutters. "It's really the least we could do."

"Still," Ivypool presses. Is this going to become an argument? She doesn't want it to become an argument.

Millie, thankfully, has other ideas. After a moment of surprise, she turns to her daughter. "You were doing that for Ivypool? How kind, to look after your Clanmate like that!"

Blossomfall's ears turn red, but her eyes say she's pleased. Feeling relieved at how well that had gone, Ivypool gives Blossomfall a lick to the shoulder and goes to find her father.

She runs into Mousewhisker on her way into the warrior's den. His fur is fluffed up from sleeping, all odd angles from thrashing around in a probable nightmare.

He stares back at her as she stares at him. "I wanted to thank you for taking the dawn patrol," she finally mews.

"Duh," he says, "you're our clanmate, and we were the only ones who seemed to notice the need."

Ivypool feels her pelt warm. "Thank you," she says again. "Brambleclaw sent me to tell you that it won't be necessary now."

He blinks. "Did you volunteer?"

Ivypool shakes her head, and gestures to the medicine den with her tail. "Cranky-feather wants me to stay there until some unknown goal is reached."

Mousewhisker snorts. "You mean, until you put on some weight."

Ivypool winces. "That obvious?"

"Also," he adds, ignoring her comment, "until you don't fall asleep just after the dawn patrol leaves." He nods to her, and steps out into the camp, leaving her to feel hot beneath her pelt. She decides that she won't admit that part to Jayfeather.

She hurries into the den to find Birchfall. He's at the back of the den, deep in sleep. For a moment she considers letting him find out later. He's slept little recently, what with how their Clanmates treat him. Blossomfall and Mousewhisker have both been forgiven more easily. Probably something to do with age. She has no idea what her Clanmates think of her, but no one glares at her like they do Birchfall, and she hasn't gone out of her way to prove her loyalty like Blossomfall and Mousewhisker. She hasn't been able to.

She shakes her head. He'd want to know now, and he can just go back to sleep. So she meows, "Birchfall."

His ears flicker, and then his eyes barely open. His voice comes out muffled from his curled form. "What is it?"

"Just wanted to let you know that I'm moving into the medicine den."

His eyes close. "That should make your mother feel a bit better."

"Also," she adds before he can go to sleep, "Thank you for making sure I wasn't on the dawn patrol."

His ears flick. "You're my kit." Then he's asleep again.

Ivypool usually hears that from her mother. It's odd to hear it from her father—odd, but not unwelcome. She slips out of the den on quiet paws.

She looks around the camp. Blossomfall and Millie are still sharing tongues, Mousewhisker is speaking with Rosepetal, and Squirrelflight is walking with Leafpool as they return from the noon border patrol.

This is her Clan. This is what she kept safe by spying and fighting, what Hawkfrost kept safe with his life. Hawkfrost died for this Clan. If she's unhealthy, she can't help sustain it. She may even die when leaf-bare comes.

The world moves on. She cannot wait with her grief, but must drag it with her as she follows the ebb and flow of life. She'll survive, happy or not, because her Clan needs her.

* * *

Ivypool has just whispered goodnight to her family and is on her way out of the warrior's den when she spots a group of four huddled nearly atop one another for the night—Graystripe and Millie curled up with their daughters. Briarlight must have gotten permission from Jayfeather to stay the night outside the medicine den.

Ivypool can't help but notice how peaceful Blossomfall looks. She wishes she could go and curl up next to her family, even if none of them want to pile up like Blossomfall's family. But Jayfeather said she was in the medicine den until she put on some weight, so she slips out from between the ferns and across the clearing.

Leafpool is still moving around the medicine den, checking over the nests. She looks up when Ivypool enters.

"Hello," Leafpool says, sounding confused. "Are you hurt?"

Ivypool shakes her head. "Jayfeather said I'm to stay here for a while."

Leafpool glances over her. Ivypool wonders if she's looking for a wound. "Of course. Here, I think this one is the most comfortable."

Ivypool licks her shoulder in gratitude and settles down in the nest. "Where's Jayfeather?"

"He'll be back soon," Leafpool says, which isn't an answer and she knows it. Ivypool eyes her, wondering where Jayfeather got his knack for arguing. Leafpool has never seemed sharp, but then again Hollowflight didn't seem like he'd train with the Dark Forest.

She decides not to risk it.

Besides, there's another question she wants answered, that is much more important, because Hawkfrost had wanted to right his wrongs, and he'll never truly be able to now.

"I need to get to the warrior's den," Leafpool says after sweeping the den with her eyes once more. "Goodnight."

"Wait," Ivypool says suddenly, and then her heart is in her throat and she's asking, "Hawkfrost—have you forgiven Hawkfrost?"

Leafpool pauses, then turns to fully look at Ivypool. Amber eyes study her, and Ivypool looks back, trying to see what's going on in her mind. Does she know how badly Hawkfrost regretted his previous actions?

"Hawkfrost took a battle that could have easily killed my father," Leafpool finally answers. "He risked and lost his life for a cat he previously tried to kill. In a way, he wasn't the same cat. And if he was a different cat, there is nothing to forgive."

Ivypool bows her head, grateful. She knows Hawkfrost's sins. She knows some of them better than any other cat. She knows that in some ways, he could never deserve forgiveness. But he'd wanted it so badly, wanted to change and make right his wrongs, so much so that he would willingly give up anything, his pride included.

"I'm glad," she manages. "Thank you."

Leafpool nods. The air between them is awkward. Then Leafpool nods again, and walks out of the den. Ivypool watches the brambles swish together behind her.

There's a cough. Ivypool jumps and spins around, drawing her face into a snarl before she recognizes the voice. She forces her fur flat. Forces herself to not shake. "Jayfeather? When did you get back?"

Jayfeather gives her reaction an unamused look. "A few seconds ago."

Ivypool looks down at her paws, and can't find it in herself to be embarrassed about her reaction. The back of her head feels cool. He'd probably overheard her conversation with Leafpool. She doesn't mind Jayfeather knowing. In fact, of all her clanmates, she'd prefer Jayfeather to know than anyone else. It's just . . .

_'I guess I wanted to tell him myself.'_

But that was silly. Brambleclaw could tell everyone if he wanted, and Ivypool wouldn't hold it against him. After a moment of silence, she settles back down into her nest.

"No," Jayfeather meows, "go get yourself some fresh-kill."

Ivypool does as instructed, bringing back the last of the pile. A mouse. By then, Jayfeather has pulled out an herb, and instructs her to eat it.

"You'll want to wait until the herbs take affect," he says, "and then probably wait a little while before going to sleep. I'll stay up with you, and give you sleeping herbs if needed."

Ivypool feels her stomach sink at the thought of sleeping early. Even after Brokenstar's death, the fear remains that sleeping without utter exhaustion might take her back to that starless place. "Okay."

The herb is bitter. It's dark in the den, the moon long across the sky and the stars hidden by the den roof. Her nest slowly warms, and the den itself is warmer than the camp outside. Jayfeather has gathered himself into a ball next to her nest, trapping warmth beneath himself.

Waiting in the darkness. Ivypool feels her throat close up first, before the memory fully hits. Waiting in the darkness, for Hawkfrost to appear. He'd often cut her practice short, so that they could wander into a flower-field together, but sometimes she'd sit and wait in a cavern by the edge of the Dark Forest, until he was done and came to see her. Hawkfrost. She loved Hawkfrost. Even if he's entirely beyond her reach, her heart is still his. She feels ripped apart, a paw in each world, except that there is no second world, and so she has one paw on solid ground and the other dangles into the air. It threatens to pull her off the edge and into oblivion.

She forces the mouse down when she can. Then she stays awake, Jayfeather silent, the cave dark and not at all like where she and Hawkfrost met, yet somehow the same.

'_I miss him so much.'_

She doesn't want to think about the open wound in her soul. She focuses on the moment. And in the moment, Jayfeather's sitting near her, silent. She doesn't mean to speak—well, she does, but she doesn't think it through. "What was her name?"

Jayfeather stiffens and blinks. He focuses on her. "Why do you want to know?"

"I want to honor the fallen." She doesn't actually know why, exactly, she wants to know. But she thinks that maybe he'll feel better if he says his lost one's name, so she doesn't retract the question.

He's silent for a long moment. Finally, he bows his head. "Her name was Half Moon."

Ivypool feels fresh pain, but at least this time it's not for herself. "That's a beautiful name."

Jayfeather nods. He shifts. "What was he like?"

Ivypool blinks as she looks him over. He must not want to focus on himself. She wants to hold back—but if she's honest, she's been looking for an open ear, someone who will listen and not be crushed by worry if she expresses pain.

"He was amazing," she begins. "Fierce, clever. Thoughtful, sometimes spontaneous. Funny when he wanted to be. And he has this amazing ability to love. He loved power first, but when he lets himself love something different, he loves it more than the ground he walks on." He'd once told her that he loved her more than the air he breathed.

And she keeps talking. Jayfeather doesn't interrupt her, and seems to pay attention to every word she speaks. For once, his unseeing eyes that focus on her aren't creepy. They're comforting.

It's the next morning, after taking poppy seeds and having forgettable nightmares and seeing the sunrise that, slowly, the world begins to move.


End file.
